


Sick

by jumpintigger



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpintigger/pseuds/jumpintigger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is a grumpy sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick

Fenris walked away from the docks, wrapped in a dark, hooded coat maybe too thin for the weather, moving fast and silently in the desert streets, his big sword tightly secured on his back. On the top of the stairs that headed to Hightown, the lone shadow missed the last step and stumbled for a couple of footsteps; when he went to a stop, he placed a hand on the nearest wall as to support himself and took a deep breath. 

Or, at least, he tried to. For how quiet it was, the hiss was the first noise coming from the elf.

The last mercenary job he took had kept him busy for three whole days, and even if slaver hunting was one of the works he most often looked for, it meant hours of tracking, ambushing and long trekking back and forth the Wounded Coast. The snowstorm caught him in the early afternoon and by the time he went back to Kirkwall his thin coat was already soaked wet. 

Fenris shivered and tried to hold a sneeze, leaning to the wall for a time that seemed an eternity to him, before standing again and resuming his walk toward his Mansion; this time, with no stairs in his path, he increased his speed.

Living in a Mansion that the whole city believed was infested by ghosts allowed him to never bother about locking the front door - not that he was actually in possess of the key – so when he reached his refuge all he had to do was leaning hard against the latch of the door to push it open. He closed the door with a kick, hands busy on fumbling with the ties of his cloak, soon dropped unceremoniously on the floor, not caring that he had barely reached for the foyer. 

He felt his skin burning even if the mansion was freezing cold, and upon reaching the stairs, now that he was safe in his mansion, he didn’t care anymore about being careful to keep his steps silent, and by the time he reached for the only room he actually used, he stumbled. 

Again.

He _never_ stumbled.

Despite being weak and cold, he managed to place his sword in a safe place and began to undress, leaving carelessly his armor in a corner _“I’ll take care of that tomorrow”_ before falling face first on his bed, shivering when his naked skin touched the freezing sheets. 

Fenris rose to pick up another blanket from the side of the bed, sneezed, coughing into his fist and let his head drop again on the pillow. Taking a deep breath, he curled on himself under the covers, waiting for the shiver to stop and by then he was finally asleep.

**

Fenris woke up to distant noises, his sensitive ears twitching even before he could open his eyes: the firewood was cracking, soft steps were moving across the room and when they stopped he heard water splashing briefly before the steps turned toward him. He opened his eyes, trying to prop himself up on one elbow but fell back with a puff as soon as he raised his head, resolving to just turn it in the direction of the intruder in his room.

“Oh, finally! You’re awake.” 

Anders. Of course. Who else could have been? Stubborn, selfless Anders that was approaching him with a bowl in his hands and a private smile on his face, the same smile he showed only to him. The healer sat on the side of the bed, placed the bowl at his feet before turning to Fenris, cupping his cheeks and resting his lips on his forehead. 

“You’re still hot.” Anders huffed, reaching for the bowl of water and dripping a washcloth in it. “Why didn’t you call me?” Fenris turned his head on the other side to avoid the mage, silently cursing the fact that he was too weak to do anything else. 

“Stay still please,” Strong fingers gently slid on Fenris’ cheek, softly but firmly turning his head again and a wet washcloth was placed on his forehead. “I can’t really wiggle my fingers to make you feel better. But this will help.” Anders shrugged apologetically, brushing Fenris’ hairs out of his face.

Fenris closed his eyes again and with a strangled groan, tried to back away from Anders’ touch. “Go away.” Was all he managed to say, but what he meant as a menacing growl turned out to be a pitiful whimper. Talking was not a good idea after all. He opened his eyes, opting for a glare and hoping that the mage would get his message, but he could not know that a glare with flushed cheeks and watery sleeping eyes was not effective at all. 

“Oh, what a grumpy little elf you are!” Anders laughed heartily, bent down to drop a soft kiss on Fenris’ cheek and removed the washcloth from his forehead, dropping it back in the bowl before rising from the bed.

Now that he was finally alone on the bed, Fenris rolled on his side, sleepily snuggling deeper under the blanket, trying to take a deep breath through his nose. He was already drifted to sleep when an additional weight on his side made him open his eyes again. 

“I thought you were cold.” Anders said softly, placing an additional blanket above the little nest of sheets the elf was currently laying under.

If a look could kill, Anders would be already dead. 

Fenris groaned, tossed and turned, giving his back to the mage who sighed, tucked the cover under him and pressed his lips to the side of his head, murmuring softly “Sleep now.” With his lips arching into a small smile, Fenris slept.

**

When he woke again, he felt a warm body pressed on his back, a soft breathing on his neck; despite being told to leave, Anders had joined him on the bed and was holding him in his sleep. 

Fenris turned, mindful of not disturbing Anders and scooted even closer to him, resting his forehead against his and brushing his fingertip above the wrinkles at the side of Anders’ eyes. His touch was feathered-like as he moved his hand down, cupping Anders’ cheek and scratching softly the stubble on his chin. 

“Are you feeling better now?” 

Anders was awake then. Fenris disentangled from him, moving away from his embrace. “I told you to go.” Good, his voice was back to normal. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But I want to help you.” Anders said softly, kissing him lightly on his lips before rolling out from the bed and putting his tunic back on. “What kind of healer would I be if I don’t take care of the people I lo-- I sleep with?”

“People you sleep with.” Fenris raised a brow, his voice flat with a hint of _something_ underneath.

“Oh. Oh-- well. You.” Anders rubbed nervously the back of his neck “You’re the only one I’m sleeping with. So! Tell me, a-- are you hungry?” Fenris rolled his eyes at the sudden change of subject, noticing Anders’ fair skin turning pink before the healer gave him his back, busying himself with something out of his sight. 

“Mage. I told you to leave.” Fenris put his forearm over his eyes, sighing tiredly. He felt too weak to get up from his bed, his skin was still too hot but the blankets were warm, his pillow soft and all he wanted to do was to sleep his fever out.

“But I won’t.” Anders was being stubborn as ever; Fenris moved his slightly his arm to check the mage, which was currently tending the fire, carefully placing new chunks of firewood in the fireplace. 

“Come on, sit down.” Kneeling at the side of the bed, Anders placed his arms around Fenris’ middle, pulled him up into a sitting position and blatantly ignored the tentative struggles of the other man. “Fenris,” Anders put on his best healer face: gentle, reassuring and straightforward determined. “I’ve already told you I’m not leaving until you’re feeling better. And you’re not going to feel better soon if you don’t eat something.”

With a steamy bowl in his left hand, Anders dipped the spoon in the soup. 

“No. I’m not a child.” Fenris growled, shaking his head and raising his hands in front of him to stop Anders who looked at him with big, brown puppy eyes. “Please?” Anders asked in his sweetest voice.

Fenris could have ignored the puppy eyes alone, he was used to being on the other side of that look after all, but _his_ mage giving him a puppy eyed look, a disarming sweet smile and an hint of pleading in his voice? He was doomed. 

To maintain a resemblance of dignity and let Anders know that he wasn’t happy at all to be babied that way, he put on his deadliest glare; he clenched his jaw before opening his mouth for the spoon, ready for the incoming humiliation he was sure he would be subject of. 

When the bowl was finally empty, Fenris had to admit that Anders had surprised him, treating him with care but without fussing too much about the fact that he was spoon-feeding him.

While Anders went to take care of the empty bowl, Fenris fell back on the bed and buried himself under the blankets again, glad to feel slightly better than before; even though he was used to remain days without food – being his former Master’s prized pet never saved him from any form of punishment – his fever had taken its toll on his strength.

He watched as Anders took off his tunic, folded it to place it on the desk before crawling on the bed and following him under the blankets. Fenris wrapped his arms around Anders’ middle and rested his head on his shoulder as Anders gripped his side and scooted him closer. 

“You won’t leave me alone, won’t you?” Fenris closed his eyes, Anders’ cold fingers tracing his jaw, a relief for his burning face. 

“Nope.” Anders smiled, kissing lightly the top of Fenris’ head. “Now that you’re feeling better, what were you doing outside, in the middle of a snowstorm? You refuse to wear warmer clothes, you don’t own boots. It’s no wonder that you got sick.” Anders moved his fingers upward with a feathered-like touch, brushing a rebel strand of hair and moving it away from Fenris’ face.

Fenris shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I’ve been busy with a contract.” He shrugged, resting his chin on Anders’ shoulder, looking at him with sleepy eyes and a hint of a sweet smile; a side of him that only Anders was allowed to see. 

“I was worried when I found you. Your skin was scorching hot, you seemed restless in your sleep and when you finally woke up all you wanted was for me to go away.” Anders whispered, meeting Fenris’ eyes and leaning down to rest his lips on the side of his head.

There was a softness in Anders’ actions, an unspoken tenderness in the way he was holding him - in the way he was taking care of him - that never ceased to amaze Fenris. Yes, they were both broken and clinging at each other. They both came from a history of hatred and abuse. But right here, right now, they finally found something keeping them whole.

“I only wanted to sleep until I got better.” Fenris muttered as an apology, already drifting back to sleep. Resting his head on Anders’ shoulder, Fenris closed his eyes, allowing the familiar scent of elfroot and magic to lull him.


End file.
